


The Good Ol' College Try

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: First Kisses, Get together fic, Jock/Nerd AU, M/M, Mutual Pining, PWP, Podfic Welcome, Sleeping Bags, fantasies, handjobs, porn without plot/plot what plot, sex on location, wet dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-21 00:49:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16149056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: Shane's dreaming, right up until he's not.





	The Good Ol' College Try

**Author's Note:**

> i decided on a whim that i wanted to try and fill a last few september scavenger hunt prompts, at the very, very last minute. so! here we go, this is my fill for the jock/nerd AU, ft some college era boys (sorta)
> 
> big thanks to hannah for beta'ing, always! 
> 
> enjoy!

Shane’s hand is wrapped around a sticky red solo cup. Everything is hazy, and for a split-second Shane thinks _drugs_ , but then he thinks _dream_ and knows that’s right. He looks around and realizes it’s some frat house he only vaguely remembers from his college days. The details are vague and faint, unimportant. The people milling about are faceless and blurry, just shapes and colors filling in the empty space of the house. Shane brings his cup to his lips and takes a sip, keenly aware that he can’t taste anything; it’s probably a good thing, since the beer likely tastes like piss.

Shane runs a hand through his hair—and oh yeah, there’s that choppy self-cut, this is _definitely_ college—and suddenly Ryan’s in front of him. Shane’s attention is immediately drawn to the pink snapback on Ryan’s head and the little tufts of hair that stick out the front. It’s endearing, and familiar, and Shane, admittedly, swoons closer. Dream-Ryan smirks, showing off all his pearly whites.

“Didn’t take you for the frat party type, Madej,” Ryan’s saying, and Shane leans in to hear him better even though his dream is weirdly silent. “Thought you’d be in the library studying. Don’t you live there now?”

Shane rolls his eyes. He’s not sure what his subconscious is trying to tell him with this weird little roleplay, but it’s not like he minds. “Free booze,” he answers. He rattles his solo cup.

Ryan snorts. “Sure.”

Ryan’s gaze turns heavier, sharper. He crosses his arms over his chest and the black tee he’s wearing stretches obscenely against his biceps and his pecs. Shane swallows, mouthwatering. Ryan’s got basketball shorts on, and they look goofy, and all Shane wants to do is peel them off with his teeth.

“Am I being seduced by the star basketball captain?” Shane finds himself saying. He doesn’t know where it’s coming from but he’s willing to see it through. A little thrill ignites in his gut at thought: him and Ryan, impossibly, in college together. Ryan, the jock-frat boy and Shane, the dedicated nerd. “You know I’m not a girl, right?” And god, that’s stupid to say, even in a dream.

Ryan only smirks. “I know,” he says. His voice is practically a purr. He makes a show of looking Shane up and down. It makes Shane a little self-conscious of his skinny jeans with holes in the knees and the plaid flannel thrown over some pithy t-shirt. But Ryan’s outright leering now and Shane lets the feeling wash over him.

“You gonna take me up to your room?” Shane asks. His solo cup is empty now, so he tosses it carelessly aside. “Word’ll spread.”

Ryan finally, _finally_ moves closer. He slides the hand not holding a beer to Shane’s hip, skirts under his tee and presses a thumb to the bone. Idly, Shane doesn’t remember Ryan starting off with a beer, and he wonders where it appeared from. But then Ryan’s speaking and logistics don’t matter.

“I don’t care if you don’t.” He tilts his head back and Shane can almost taste the booze on Ryan’s breath, just like he can almost truly feel Ryan’s hand on his hip.

Shane hums, pretending to think about it. “Can’t tarnish my reputation.”

“Oh, sure,” Ryan says teasingly. “Your spectacular rep as the nerdiest guy on campus.” Ryan flashes him a grin that’s a little mean, toothy. “Can’t tarnish that with a good ol’ dicking.”

Shane’s whole body flushes, so much so that he’s even aware of it in real life. “That’s what you’re wanting to give me? A good ol’ dicking?” Shane aims to be mocking too, but knows he fails when he trips, ever so slightly, over ‘ _dicking.’_

Ryan leans back far enough to take a swig from his beer, and then another, and then he’s downing the whole thing and tossing it aside. He settles his other hand first on Shane’s hip, then slides it around to cup his ass through his jeans. He takes a handful, squeezing, sending a shiver up Shane’s spine.

With a soft, shrill noise, Shane goes up on his toes, almost as if to get away from the feeling. He arches his back at the same time, because he _wants it_ , and Ryan gives it to him with another hearty squeeze.

“Let me take you upstairs,” Ryan says, voice soft.

Shane nods frantically. He whines quietly when Ryan’s hand leaves his ass and links their fingers together instead. Immediately, Ryan tugs him toward the stairs.

Shane blinks, and the next thing he knows, Ryan’s hands are on his chest, shoving him onto some random bed. Shane stares up at Ryan as he strips off his shirt and then shoves his shorts down his legs. In a split second, Ryan is down to nothing but tight gray boxer-briefs and his silly snapback. He looks fucking ridiculous, and entirely what Shane imagines Ryan looked like back in his college days. Except he’s more ripped, more like real-life Ryan. He’s like a touch of reality mixed with some weird fantasy, rolled into one wet dream.

Ryan’s still grinning down at him, arms crossed over his chest, biceps bulging.

“Just gonna lay there?” Ryan asks.

Shane scrambles to get out of his clothes. Ryan makes no move to help him, and Shane’s keenly aware of Ryan’s eyes on him as he gets tangled in his flannel and as he fumbles for his pants. Once naked, he spreads his legs in what he’s hoping is an inviting way.

Ryan nods approvingly. The snapback tilts awkwardly on his head as he clambers onto the bed in between Shane’s spread legs.

Shane snickers and reaches out to take off the hat.

“What’re you doing?” Ryan asks.

“The hat is stupid,” Shane says, but the hat won’t come off. He pulls at it again, but the stupid thing won’t budge.

“What?”

“The hat,” Shane says again with another yank.

“Shane, what are you talking about?”

Shane stops and looks at Ryan who’s staring back at him with a blank expression. “Ryan?”

“Shane, wake up.”

Shane blinks and when he opens his eyes, real-life Ryan is staring down at him with a sleepily concerned expression. “What the fuck,” Shane croaks, voice heavy with exhaustion.

“You were breathing really heavy. Making noises.” Ryan sits back and snuggles back down into his own sleeping bag. “Got worried.”

Shane looks around blearily as the dream fades away and he pieces together reality. They’re in the demon house of the season, in a dusty and stale attic that’s suddenly running chilly. They’re each in their own sleeping bag, and Shane’s rock hard in his sweatpants. “Oh,” he says.

Ryan hums. “I was almost asleep, too.”

“Sorry.” Shane tilts his head back to look at the door. He could duck to the bathroom, take care of his little problem. “I’ll be right back.”

“What?”

“Gotta pee.”

“Dude, you can’t leave me up here. The bathroom’s on the bottom floor!”

Shane sighs. “Ryan. You’ll be fine.” He unzips his sleeping back and starts to sit up.

“I could pee too. I’ll come with.”

“I thought you were almost asleep.”

“I’m not gonna sleep _now_. I thought you were dying, and if you leave _I’m_ gonna worried about dying.”

Shane groans. “Ryan.”

“Shane,” Ryan mimics.

“You’ll be _fine_.”

“I’ll be better if I come with.” Ryan unzips his own bag and starts to clamber out.

“Ryan, stop.”

Ryan stops.

“I don’t need to pee.”

“Dude, if you have to shit, you can just—?”

“No.” Shane closes his eyes, even though the room is dark enough he can’t really see Ryan anyway. “I don’t need to use the bathroom.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing. Forget it.” Shane closes his sleeping bag up again and turns onto his side, his back to Ryan. “It’s nothing.”

Ryan lets out a rushing exhale that Shane recognizes as his _“I’m annoyed and you’re the cause”_ noise. Ryan doesn’t say anything else, though, and climbs back into his own sleeping bag judging by the sounds. He rustles around and when Shane chances a look over his shoulder, Ryan has his back to him too.

Shane waits for sleep to return to him, but his nerves feel electrified. He’s still hard in his sweats and his hands are getting clammy; it’s too hot in the sleeping bag and every time he blinks, he sees his dream behind his eyelids. Nothing _that_ sexy even happened, but shirtless Ryan is a common refrain in his wet dreams, and it’s enough.

Shane strains his ears for Ryan’s breathing and lets out a quiet sigh of relief: even and smooth. No movement aside from the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest under the crinkling sleeping bag. Ryan is sleeping, and even if it’s only a light sleep, it’s good enough for Shane.

Shane bites his bottom lip and, quietly as he possibly can, slides a hand into his sweats. He curls his hand around his dick and strokes slowly. It’s dry and the friction is almost too much, but Shane’s turned on enough that this won’t take long. He waits for another second, hand around his cock, and when there’s no movement from Ryan, he continues.

He quickly loses himself in the stroking, hurtling toward the edge of orgasm. He imagines what would’ve happened if he hadn’t woken up: Ryan looming over him with that stupid fucking snapback, Ryan’s fingers stretching him open, Ryan fucking him hard enough that everyone at the fucking frat party can hear. Shane brings up his other hand and bites on his knuckles as the urge to moans overwhelms him.

He’s close, so close, he’s not even thinking. His hips push slightly into the tight circle of his fist. His eyes are fluttering and he can’t keep them open. He bites harder on his knuckles, enough to leave marks in the skin, as the warmth builds in his stomach.

“I fucking _knew it_.”

Shane’s eyes snap open at the same moment he comes; he moans around his knuckles, loud and reverberating off the attic walls. Ryan’s voice is suddenly bouncing around in his head, but not in the same dreamy way as before—in an all too real way.

Shane waits until his orgasm comes down, which doesn’t take long given the panic coursing through him, before wiping his hand on his sweats and rolling over.

Ryan is facing him, propped up on an elbow. “I fucking knew it,” he says again.

“Ryan—?”

“I _knew_ you said my name in your sleep.”

Shane’s ears burn, or they were already burning and burn _worse_. “Listen—?”

“No, no, you didn’t _say_ my name,” Ryan shakes his head as he speaks. “You _moaned_ it.”

“Ryan,” Shane pleads.

“We’re gonna have to cut all this footage,” Ryan says, but he doesn’t sound _mad_. He unzips his bag and Shane watches, stricken and frozen to his core. Ryan reaches for Shane’s sleeping bag and once it’s unzipped, he crawls inside. “I fucking knew it,” he says again, before kissing Shane hard enough to hurt.

Shane yelps into the kiss, and yelps again when Ryan skirts a hand over the front of his damp sweatpants. “Ryan,” he tries to say without entirely breaking the kiss, because _holy fucking shit_.

“Shut up, Shane,” Ryan hisses. “Shut up, and get me off.”

Shane bites back a whine and breaks the kiss. He brings his hand to his mouth and licks a stripe over his palm, nose wrinkling at the faint taste of his own come still on his skin, before shoving his hand into Ryan’s own pajama pants.

Ryan moans the second Shane touches him, and hauls Shane in for another kiss. “Do you,” he says between kisses, “have any idea,” another kiss, “how long I’ve wanted this?”

“I can imagine,” Shane says as he strokes faster.

Ryan grins into the kiss. He threads his fingers through Shane’s hair and cradles his head close, tugs lightly on the strands. “Tell me about your dream,” Ryan pleads.

Shane swallows. “College. Frat party.” He busies himself with kissing Ryan until the other man makes a desperate noise, a wordless plea for him to continue. “You were, uh, captain of the basketball team. I was a, a nerd.”

Ryan laughs against his lips. “Of course you were.”

“You were wearing this stupid pink snapback, even when you got naked.”

“Sounds about right,” Ryan says, still giggling. He fucks into Shane’s fist and his face goes slack. “Were you gonna let me fuck you?”

Shane grips him a little tighter. “Yeah, and everyone would hear.”

Ryan moans, his breath hitches, and then he comes over Shane’s fingers. His hand in Shane’s hair tightens and drags him in for another, breathless kiss as his orgasm rides through him. Ryan whimpers into the kiss and breaks it with a soft whine of Shane’s name. He breathes heavily as he pushes Shane’s hand away.

“Too much,” he explains, voice cracked and soft.

Shane nods and, for the second time that night, wipes the come off on his sweats. “So,” he trails off.

“Yep,” Ryan answers. He kisses Shane again but it’s tender, gentler than the others so far. “We good?”

Shane nods. “We’re good. We’re gonna have to cut so much footage.”

Ryan shrugs. He reaches behind him and yanks his sleeping bag closer, drapes it over himself as more of a blanket. “We’ll make it up to the fans by doing a video about our relationship or something.”

Shane feels a blush steal across his cheeks. “Yeah?”

Ryan shrugs. Shane watches his eyes flutter shut. “Why not? They’ll love it.”

“They will,” Shane agrees. “You wanna do that?”

Ryan opens one eye, his stare almost painfully unimpressed.

Shane winds his arms around Ryan and hides his grin in Ryan’s hair. “Okay, cool, great.”

Ryan’s laugh tickles Shane’s neck. “Glad you think so, big guy.” His lips brush over Shane’s pulse point. “Maybe I’ll actually get some sleep now.”

“Sorry for waking you,” Shane teases.

“You’re forgiven.”


End file.
